


Braeburns & Lucky Strikes

by Gomblin, Snazzy_Snowy_Snake



Category: Hetalia - Fandom, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1960s, Alternate Universe - Human, Hetalia, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, M/M, New Au, Period-Typical Homophobia, Strong Language, farm au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2019-09-25 13:26:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17122235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gomblin/pseuds/Gomblin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snazzy_Snowy_Snake/pseuds/Snazzy_Snowy_Snake
Summary: After being sent to a farm in Virginia for an entire summer to learn the meaning of hard work,18 year old Arthur Kirkland meets a young farmer called Alfred and his family. An eventful summer awaits the two young men in the year 1960, but neither knows what their life together will have in stock. At first, both can't even stand each other- how could Arthur and Alfred ever end up together?A romantic novel about the summer of a farmer and a city dweller that will love each through thick and thin- even after their summer together draws to a close





	1. Lollipop

**Author's Note:**

> We hope you enjoy this little work of ours!! Please feel free to let us know what you think of our work in the comments. This is basically a RP [Roleplay] converted into a fanfiction.  
> The song "Lolliop" belongs to The Chordettes  
> -Gomblin & Snake

Virginia, 1960

On a hot, monday morning, Alfred, a 18-year-old, Virginian farmer, was already waiting for the guest from England. London, to be exact. He was excited to see a new face, to be honest, but he really wondered what the other was like. For sure he was used to the ongoing city life, the American was sure about that, and, that the English man’s parents had sent him over to the farm for the summer to learn what work really was. He still didn’t know how to feel about that simple fact; but he was still excited! He was simply worried that they wouldn’t get along at all.

But what was the Brit called again? Arthur, right! The son of the Kirklands, he knew that too... They had a big company, he knew some of the things they sold worldwide, but it was an absolute mystery to the young man why the Kirkland’s chose their farm, out of all the farms there were on the world!

Alfred didn’t even notice how messy he was, he had a piece of wheat in his mouth, his flannel was kind of dirty and stuffed into his pants. His sleeves were rolled up and revealed his strong, tanned arms. His sky-blue eyes and sandy blonde hair, as well as his pointed jawline made him look even better; his chest was broad and he was rather tall. He just looked strong and muscular in general. While waiting, the American had snatched a piece of wheat, chewing around on it in order to suppress the urge to smoke for now- he already had a cigarette today and he was running low on them; and only god knew when he got into town the next time.

As he saw the black car driving over to them, he gasped and grinned, glancing back at the farm; it wasn’t his, but he was still was proud of it, especially the things he did. He mostly worked on the fields and helped the other’s out once he finished his work. He didn’t really do much with the animals around here except feeding them and cleaning up the stables sometimes. As the car parked, Alfred was waiting, expecting some young man to get out of it so that Alfred could introduce himself and show him around. He couldn’t really hide the excitement he had locked up for almost a month now! He’d be spending a lot of time with Arthur since he’d show him loads of things, so he just hoped they’d get along!

Arthur, however, could hardly believe his bad luck, and if not for his dreadful case of jet-lag then he would have had more energy to spend complaining about it to his driver. As it happened, he needed to sit with his eyes closed in order to distract himself from the awful heat and his painful headache. He was usually quite good at functioning with very little sleep but being here in another time zone was disorientating for a man who until now had only travelled as far as Wales.

The Brit didn’t have much that he needed to do, being smart had made school easy and Arthur treated it as the least important thing in the world. He didn’t need to study when he was more intelligent than any of the idiots he was schooled with. Arthur had good grades, so what did it matter to his parents how he spent his time?  
His parents seemed to think that he should learn a thing or two about hard work; Arthur disagreed but had been sent abroad anyway. 

He found it awfully unfair to be torn away from England’s fashion and music scene to instead be forced overseas. They had been driving for hours and the only conversation partner available was his driver. Considering the man’s southern accent and Arthur’s general snobbishness he had turned his nose up at such a prospect.  
The Brit didn’t need to focus in school, but he could certainly tell that every yank he’d met so far would have benefited from spending more time there.

The car stopped, and he was forced to get out. At the same time, the young American cracked a grin, feeling excitement fill his muscular body as he stared at the door, not being able to wait any longer to see that rich Brit they were going to have over for the summer. Arthur refused to wear shorts on a matter of principle and had stepped out of the black car in a suit jacket with a shirt and tie. He was regretting the collar, but he kept a straight face and looked towards Alfred.The American frowned at the odd appearance; wasn’t that Brit horribly hot in those stuffy clothes? And he was sickly pale too! The brit’s face was mostly obscured by dark sunglasses, and he gestured to Alfred with a pale hand. He didn’t look used to the sun, and clearly didn’t spend much time outside working like Alfred did if his scrawny appearance was to be trusted.  
“I assume you’re here to take my bags?” He asked, taking a lollipop out of his mouth and twirling the stick between his fingers. His eyes were hidden from view, but from the way he tilted his head it was clear that he was looking down on the taller man. He didn’t pay Alfred much attention, he really just wanted to go inside.  
“Erm.. no. I’m supposed to show you your room, you must be tired from travelling” he said, smiling slightly; God he looked like a dork with that little smile of his, but it suited him... it made him look cute, in a certain way- as cute as a tall, strong and tanned man could look. Alfred’s accent was strong, even worse than the driver’s one. He thought Arthur’s accent was funny, it really was, though! But he looked like a total priss, that was the only problem he had so far. “And it’s nice to meet you, my name’s Alfred. Was your flight and ride good?” he asked and extended a hand for him to shake, deciding to keep his positive attitude.

The sound of Alfred’s voice made the young man wince, as did the news that he’d be lugging his suitcase back to the house himself. He turned to look at the driver when the man got his case and a smaller bag out of the boot of the car. The guy had been paid in advice, good news for Arthur who didn’t want to learn a damn thing about the American currency. He gave the man a dismissive wave and took hold of his two bags before turning his head to face Alfred. He was tired, and his head hurt, he’d be in for a surprise when he finally stopped to pay attention to Alfred’s appearance but at the moment he was too irritated to pay him any mind.

“Quite the observation, Alfred. I’m bloody exhausted.” He grumbled at him.  
God, Alfred. Such a nice name was wasted on this country bum. The way Alfred made his own name sound made Arthur cringe, it hadn’t even occurred to him that people here might fight his received pronunciation hilarious.  
“There’s no need to stand around in this awful heat. I’m sure you know my name already, so how about we get a move on.” He looked to Alfred expectantly, wanting to put an end to any pointless small talk or introductions and escape this dreadful sun. What he wouldn’t do for a cigarette right now, but his hands were occupied with the stupid bags. He had no intention of shaking Alfred’s grubby hand, like hell he was touching something which milked cows and scooped horse shit.  
“Well? Are we standing around all day grinning like idiots, or are you going to show me inside like you’re supposed to?”

Listening to the Brit, Alfred had frowned, not liking the way the scrawny male managed to talk down on a way bigger one. “…Yeah, fine.” he said and huffed softly, putting the piece of wheat away. “I’m surprised you have energy for being prissy if you’re that exhausted” he muttered under his breath, but really tried to be nice.

As his hand was dismissed, he gritted his teeth and took the heavier suitcase, carrying it for the Brit with ease. He was already waiting for a ‘thank you’ or something, but he somehow knew that he could wait the whole summer for that. “Huh, fine... but I gotta tell you, it’s not going to get any colder soon, it’s not even august and you’re complaining about the heat already” he said and smirked a bit, obviously teasing Arthur; but what else should he do? The Brit was just prissy and spoiled!

The Brat simply rolled his eyes and started walking with him, then looked back at him, not seeming to care much about what Alfred said at all.  
“Are you strong?” he asked after a few seconds of silence, figuring that Arthur wasn’t an outdoor person at all already, so maybe Alfred could find a task where the Brit had to do lifting and carrying instead of working on the field all day. 

He opened the door for Arthur and slipped out of his boots, then waited for Arthur to do the same. The furniture was made from wood and looked quite old, there were a thing or two that didn’t really match but it was comfortable, looking like a rather cosy home. “C’mon, your room is upstairs” he said and walked to the stairs, walking past the kitchen, where someone was cooking and preparing things for dinner inside already, but the woman didn’t notice Arthur nor Alfred. “We have a telephone in the hall, you can call your parents, if you want, but try to keep it short or pay it yourself” he said walked down the upper hallway with him; there were multiple, colourful rugs on the floor, some of them didn’t match either, but nobody seemed to care too much about it. The whole house smelt somewhat like hay but the smell of dinner being cooked gave it a comfortable and homely feel.  
Arthur had wrinkled his nose as the two wandered inside of the mismatched home. He didn’t feel as though he owed Alfred or anyone here his immense gratitude; his parents were paying for his board! Simply renting out the spare room and even giving these people free labour.

Arthur wasn’t going to play any part in that nonsense. He had books and surely enough American currency to support him if he snuck outside for a night out.  
Except a night out seemed unlikely all the way out here. No doubt Arthur would be stuck at a saloon or chugging moonshine behind an outhouse.  
He hummed in response to Alfred but clearly wasn’t paying much attention to him. The place was a mess, whoever was being paid to clean really ought to get the sack. 

After making their way through the house Alfred stopped in front of the last door next to a window in the hallway and opened it, showing Arthur his room.  
“There you go. Go take a nap and unpack your stuff. Also, feel free to go look around in the house! Dinner’s probably ready around seven, I’ll get you for it” he said with a smile and placed the suitcase down while Arthur examined the room.

It wasn’t impressive, and it had that same smell of hay as the rest of the house. The snob didn’t say a word to Alfred, instead he walked around the room to further inspect it. Perhaps entering the room in silence was enough of a hint that he didn’t want company, but Alfred had apparently not gotten the memo. He was surprised and a fair bit annoyed that Alfred was still there, and the blond carefully removed his sunglasses before tucking them into his pocket to more effectively fix Alfred with an unimpressed scowl.  
If the farmhand would stop staring then that would be perfect, but instead the young man just watched him walk around and waited patiently for a reaction of Arthur. He looked at his eyes, looked straight into them... god Arthur had such beautiful eyes... but his attitude sucked balls, and as soon as Alfred had thought about that, his eyes weren't that pretty anymore.  
Huffing, Arthur decided to speak up. “Yes, I heard you. Dinner at seven.I’d rather you leave before I fell asleep though. Chop chop, run along.”

"Sure thing, I gotta go then" Alfred said and rolled his eyes, then walked away. Arthur’s rude behaviour was beginning to piss him off. How could someone look so good and have such a shit personality?! The American sighed and walked into the kitchen, joining the farmer's wife. They had a little talk and Alfred told her about the Brit, telling her what he thought of him in his honesty.  
He was soon turned down with the words;"He is tired, maybe he's nice when he has more energy". The woman was more forgiving of the behaviour Alfred had told her about and simply smiled as the young man fetched a knife to help her with the food. Alfred huffed and chopped some onions and carrots, trying to get Arthur off his mind. There were only a few people on the farm; the farmer, Mr. Blair, his wife, Mrs. Blair, their two children Nancy and George, and Alfred. He wasn't one of their children but was basically treated by them as a true family member since the rest of their children had passed away during infancy.  
Alfred’s parents had died long ago in an accident when he was only about eight years old before the Blairs took him in. He was very grateful for it and appreciated being taken in by the family. Alfred had once had a twin brother, but after being separated for nine years he supposed he would never reconnect with Matthew if he was still out there. It was a small community, if Matthew was nearby then Alfred and the Blairs would have known by now.  
The Blairs were a diverse group, the mother was rather plump and her son took after her while her daughter was as thin as a stick. Mr Blair was a fair bit stronger, stocky in appearance unlike Alfred’s more defined muscle. All three men were protective of Nancy, not only the youngest in the family but a girl as well.

Alfred was completely lost in thoughts as he sat the table with the girl and let out a frustrated sigh as dinner was going to be ready very soon... Three hours had passed so far, and he really hoped Arthur would be in a better mood now. He really didn't know what to do if he was still that pissy. After another hour of basically doing nothing but thinking, dinner was ready, and Alfred went up to the Brit's room and knocked on it, waiting for permission to go inside. 

Arthur was already awake when Alfred knocked on the door. He didn’t bother to move from his spot on the bed where he had been reading and smoking.  
Arthur turned a page and settled back against the pillows. He’d taken off his jacket and tie, but besides that he’d only unbuttoned the top of his shirt to help battle the heat. It really was terrible weather, and Alfred’s promise that it would not get any better had Arthur convinced that he’d stay in his room for the entirety of his stay. He honestly didn’t know what his parents were thinking, sending him to such a backwards and awful place such as America. Everyone had a strange accent, the food was all wrong, and they were miles away from any kind of youthful night life. He doubted he’d find a bookstore anywhere near here either, and he doubted that Alfred or any of the household could actually read.  
Arthur intended to stay in his room for now. Perhaps he’d venture out in the evening when it was cooler, but at the moment his best bet would to try and make his books last in the shelter of his Dingy bedroom. He just hoped that he wouldn’t start to smell like these people, but he had dabbed on some cologne in the hopes of separating himself from these rednecks who smelled of hay and the outdoors. “Come in.” He called out, sounding quite annoyed.

As Alfred got permission to get in, he opened the door and stood in the doorframe. "Dinner's ready. You comin'?" he asked and looked at the Brit, then looked at the book, squinting his eyes to see the title but he found he couldn't read it, it was just too small and far away from Alfred. "What are you reading?" he asked to satisfy his natural curiosity.  
Arthur set his book down and exhaled some smoke before putting the cigarette out in an ashtray. He smirked when he caught Alfred trying to read his book. Obviously illiterate, he honestly didn’t know what his parents expected him to learn from these people.  
“The picture of Dorian Gray. I’m sure you’ve never heard of it. You’re welcome to borrow it when I’m finished.” His offer came across as more of a joke than anything else, after all he didn’t expect Alfred to be able to read. 

Arthur watched as the other reacted with a raised eyebrow. Alfred knew how to read, he had attended actual school when he still lived with his parents! He knew how to read and write and the basics of math, like counting, sums, subtraction, multiplication and so on as well as solving some equations. Alfred was actually the only one who could properly read and write. He soon took the smell of his cologne in when Arthur got up to join him in the doorway, and found himself wondering how he could afford such an expensive smelling thing... Alfred had saved all of his money and even got some of the Blair's money to buy himself an already used, older motorcycle… He still had about $20 debt, but he would work hard for it and get the money back in for them.  
Alfred watched him put the cigarette out, wondering which ones he had... probably some extra expensive ones you’d only get in London for sure. Not the ones Alfred sometimes snatched from Mr. Blair. “Ah, I’ve really never heard of it. But I’d love to read it, actually. I only have a few books for myself, they’re pretty expensive around here so I only have three.” he said and bit his lip, feeling a bit embarrassed about the fact that he only had three books and Arthur probably had over fifty. “But I’m not illiterate, if you just said that because you want to make fun of me” he said with a forced smile and tried to calm down. "I'll show you around tomorrow and show you how to do stuff around here, alright?"

“I suppose you’d best show me to the kitchen, but there’s no need to worry about tomorrow. I won’t get in your way. You finish milking your cows and I’ll finish my little book.” Arthur replied in amusement. Alfred could hardly believe the attitude Arthur had. He carried himself with a lot of confidence despite being shorter and scrawnier than the American farmhand. Huffing, Alfred quickly shook his head.

“No way in hell. You’re gonna work here like your parents want you to, they pay us and I’m not planning on even risking to lose that money. And I don’t milk the cows” he said and shot him a glare, being obviously pissed off because of his stupid attitude. Still, Alfred was around Arthur’s age and expected to get along with him as well as show him the ropes. He just had to take a deep breath and calm down. Still, there was a tense silence between the two boys as they walked downstairs in the dining room

Arthur followed his host and sat down with a bored expression. He would certainly avoid doing any work, however he couldn’t easily get away with that if the adults were aware of his lazy intentions. Much to Alfred’s surprise he was polite to the two adults, insisting that the food smelled lovely and that they didn’t get a lot of sun where he was from so he was still getting used to it. 

The kitchen was cluttered with bits and bobs varying from egg cups to tea cosies. It wasn’t particularly messy, nor could it be considered dirty. No, the kitchen was well taken care of by the mother of the household, who currently was sitting beside her husband and fussing over her children. The two were excited to meet the newest member of the household, but in Mrs Blair’s eyes that only meant that they should be on their best behaviour instead of turning to get a good look at Arthur. The family were sat around a wooden table with freshly cooked food being served in the middle and heaped onto plates. 

 

Nancy was sat next to Arthur, while Alfred sat next to George and started eating as the other's did. He was surprised that Arthur was polite towards the two adults, but not to him; fucking hell this was pissing him off. He sighed and looked at George in a rather sceptical way but the younger teen just shrugged him off. 

Mr. Blair, the stocky farmer responded that Arthur was a welcome visitor. He didn’t see Alfred’s exaggerated eye roll, but Mrs Blair whacked the young man’s arm and told him to be polite. They had a guest, afterall.

“Your pops is an old friend of mine, we’ll take good care of you don’t worry yourself.” The conversation was off to a good start, but unfortunately for his wife Mr Blair was less worried about being polite.The man had spoken to Arthur with a wide smile. “Hopefully working outside like a real red-blooded American will keep you from turning out like a spoiled lil’ princess, Huh Kirky?”

The Brit was honestly flabbergasted, amazed that the man could say something so rude with such a huge and friendly grin. He forced himself to respond with a tight-lipped smile, but he was obviously shocked by the clear disrespect.

 

The blonde American watched Mr. Blair talk and smirked as he heard him. "I think it's already too late to keep him from turning into a spoiled lil' princess, pops" he said with a smirk, not being able to hold that comment back. He was at least able to hold back his laughter. ‘Kirky’ was just way too funny.  
While Mr Blair and George had snickered, Mrs. Blair seemed to be rather shocked by what Alfred said and crossed her arms.  
"Alfred, manners! Take back what you said, you promised to be nice" she said, and Alfred groaned and rubbed his face with his hand. Why him? "Fine, fine, sorry ma" he muttered and finished eating soon.  
Arthur was just as embarrassed by Mrs Blair’s input and felt his face burning red, honestly, he couldn’t believe he needed to have a middle-aged woman fight his battles for him! She was a bloody housewife! This was just degrading!  
His jaw was tense as he chewed the food. He wasn’t about to talk back to the man on his first day- he did have to at least make an effort. He didn’t notice Alfred watching him, apparently taking a moment from teasing him to appreciate the rosy hue on his face.

Mr. Blair had chuckled quietly at Alfred’s response. He preferred jokes and little outbursts like that, it meant a young man respected him enough to be himself around him. If there was one thing the Farmer couldn’t stand it was two faced liars. When it comes to anything, he believed that you either ‘are or you ain’t.’ There was no time for pretending.  
“Oh the boy’s Just bein’ friendly is all. No use coddling our British guest.  
Alfred had mostly kept himself out of their conversations, not feeling up to talking to the princess on his left. Over dessert however the American felt his mood improve, and he decided to take a chance. He was sure he would have better luck asking for things he wanted if they had company.  
"Friendly, Sure thing…. Oh yeah! I'm... going into town today, is that alright?" he asked, hoping that the farmer would let him leave.

“The City sounds like a Mighty Fine idea, Alfred. Just make sure yer back in time to get to sleep at a decent hour.” Mr Blair’s reaction was not that of someone who was annoyed with their son’s impolite behaviour. Arthur was certainly annoyed, but Alfred grinned.  
“Awesome! I will, don’t worry!” he said, obviously in a better mood than earlier

Violently, the Brit pushed his food around on the plate with his fork. He was quite pissed off at Alfred and the farmer for making fun of him. He stood up abruptly and dismissed himself to his room. If Alfred thought he was going to work in the fields with him then he was wrong, Arthur had no intention of lowering himself to such an extent. Working outside would be dreadful, but it would be even worse to be stuck in a field with that insufferable yank. He stormed out of the kitchen to escape to his room where Arthur planned to indulge himself in another cigarette and a bottle of beer. Alfred had been watching as he got up abruptly. Frowning and wondering what was up with him.  
“I’m not gonna question that...” he said and looked at the two adults again. “Can I go and get ready? Or do y’all need help cleaning?” he asked and looked at them with a small smile, being excited to get away for half of the night.


	2. Dream a little dream of me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discoveries are made and opinions are formed

Evening came and the farm was a much quieter place now that the animals had gone to sleep and the family had retired to their respective bedrooms.  
The scene was a peaceful one, but the silence on Arthur’s side of the house would soon be broken. Arthur had stayed in his room for the better part of an hour. He wanted to read his book, the story with a cast of obviously homosexual men had interested him enough that the young man frequently went back to this book and others like it to indulge in something he knew was illegal. They couldn’t lock him up for his thoughts.  
Remaining a perpetually young bachelor didn’t sound too awful either.

It was around eight p.m. when Alfred was ready to go, preparing the rusty old bike which would surely bring an end to the peace and quiet. Directly under Arthur’s window, was a loud, roaring engine, which died once and Alfred had to restart the motorcycle over and over until it worked. The American could be heard cursing and muttering something like ‘c’mon!’, making loads of noises now until he finally managed to get it to work. He hopped onto it and smirked, being ready to just drive away.

Arthur was roused from his book when he heard the sound of swearing by his window, and the Brit had no choice but to investigate. There was little else he could do, he was curious about the source of the noise. His eyes widened at the sight of a motorbike, but the chap riding it had resulted in Arthur frowning. How unfair, Alfred could just drive off to Timbuktu and Arthur was stuck in this smelly room to await chores in the morning. He decided that if he was to be stuck inside then he may as well bother Alfred, the prat deserved someone to tell him off. If Alfred was going to be free to go off to town late at night then the very least he could do was avoid rubbing it in Arthur’s face.  
Arthur took a moment to figure out the mechanism keeping his window locked, barely avoiding a splinter when he finally pushed the window up and stuck his head out.  
“Oh, so they’ve figured out a way to turn a trash heap into transportation. I suppose America isn’t quite as backwards as the rest of the world thinks.” He called out, gripping the windowsill and leaning forward with a smirk.

The sound reached Alfred easily, and the yank frowned as he looked up at him, gritting his teeth. “Oh fuck off. At least I get to actually go somewhere” he called back at him and stuck his tongue out to him. Arthur scowled back at the reminder that he couldn’t go anywhere, and for a moment Alfred considered taking Arthur along. He could easily leave the brat in the city, but he realised that such an act was more trouble than it was worth. He’d had his bike locked up in the old shed in the past and knew better than to risk losing it again.  
Besides, it could be dangerous out there for Arthur. With morals taking control, he decided against his idea and just decided to annoy Arthur a tiny bit more before he left. The ass deserved it.  
“Anyway, have a good time sittin’ in your room” he said, and mock waved him before he drove away, making more loud sounds with his cycle as he did. Being quite the confrontational little fellow, Arthur had offered Alfred the two fingered salute and called him a prick. He didn’t think he could be heard over the sound of Alfred’s shitty bike, but at least he’d said something. 

Alfred rode through the dark and dusty road with his headlights to guide the way. They were in the middle of nowhere, it was highly unlikely that Alfred would meet any other vehicles until he got closer to town. As sociable as the young chap was, he appreciated this kind of solace. It was just him and the open road. His trusty bike was well taken care of and accompanied him when no other person did. He was just so proud of it and all Arthur did was make fun of the thing. Still, Arthur’s opinion on the bike didn’t matter. This was more than enough for Alfred; as long as it moved, it was good. He had snatched one of Mr. Blair‘s cigarette packages and had it in his pocket, hoping the man wouldn‘t notice it anytime soon.

Arthur, on the other hand, looked on as Alfred’s figure got smaller and smaller. Thankfully, the dreadful sound from his bike was gone too. He almost missed their interaction, but that wasn’t something he could admit to himself or indeed dwell on for very long at all. Alfred was a prick, and Arthur would rather be alone than have to deal with the man any longer. With a huff, he pulled the window shut a little too roughly and gasped when he gave himself a splinter on the old wood.  
He stuck his finger in his mouth for a moment, approaching the bed to sit down and reflect on the current situation.  
He really was stuck here for the foreseeable future. It was by no means fair, but he wasn’t too surprised that his parents would get rid of him for the entire summer. Arthur had just finished boarding school, of course the summer before he left for university his parents would want him out of their hair. God forbid they spent any time under the same roof as their eldest son.  
He glanced around the warm glow of the light in the room, then flopped onto his back to lay atop the bed. He’d spent years fagging for older boys and putting up with crap from his teachers. Arthur couldn’t let himself be stifled by everyone he met. It was soul crushing and he wanted no part in it.  
Arthur longed to ride his motorbike to gigs and to be met with mates who had a similar outlook to him. Instead, he found himself stranded far from home and living amongst strangers.  
He fell asleep easily, the weight of his thoughts couldn’t distract the jet lagged boy from sleep for too long. 

 

Alfred‘s motorcycle could be heard in the middle of the night, and he parked under Arthur‘s window like usual because nobody usually lived on this side of the big house. But with a little alcohol in his system he had quickly forgotten about Arthur and soon it turned out to be quiet again.

The silence didn’t last long. Alfred spoke to somebody rather quietly, and it was obvious that Alfred was talking to another man. From this side of the building, only Arthur could possibly hear their muffled conversation.  
Arthur had indeed been roused from sleep by the sound of the bloody motorcycle, but it took him several moments to wake up properly. By that time whispers could be heard, and it took the teen a moment to consider what he could possibly be listening to.  
The Brit dragged himself out of bed, unhappy to be woken up and intending to chew Alfred out for making such a racket. He pushed the window open with more ease than yesterday and opened his mouth to tell the other to shut up. With the window open, however, he could hear Alfred’s voice and that of another fellow.  
It was definitely a man, even if the women here seemed a bit rough around the edges there was no way they could take such a deep, seductive tone. 

He couldn’t make out the whispers, but the tone of voice was unmistakable. Arthur was sure he was having another one of those dreams, but he couldn’t imagine any dream of his smelling like hay.  
The Brit covered his mouth with his hands when the sound of kissing only confirmed his suspicions.  
He waited until it was silent again, then went back to bed with his mind racing. Alfred couldn’t be...that mindless brute surely lacked the sensitivity to be able to look past society’s accepted forms of love and come to his own conclusion. He only had three books, there was no way Alfred could have let their homoerotic subtext spark a realisation in him if he hadn’t read such eye-opening books. It didn’t make any sense to him. Arthur knew what he had heard, he’d had similar rendezvous in the past but he had always had the good sense not to do such things within earshot of someone’s bedroom. What Alfred was doing was illegal, he couldn’t imagine that the dolt could realise he liked such things when he wasn’t as well read as Arthur. It struck him that they had more in common than he could have thought, but that didn’t mean that he had to like him. 

When Arthur was awoken by Alfred the following morning he really didn’t want to get up. It took a few moments for his mind to catch up, though, and Arthur was soon looking up at Alfred suspiciously from underneath ridiculously thick eyebrows.  
Alfred rubbed his eyes tiredly, barely looking at Arthur as he spoke. Clearly the bastard had no idea that he had been found out.  
“Breakfast is ready, just come downstairs when you‘re ready“ he said and walked away, not really wanting to bother himself with Arthur.  
“Alright, I’m awake.” Arthur grumbled, burying his face into the pillow and listening to Alfred’s footsteps get quieter. Alright, he must have left.  
Arthur tried to go back to sleep, but it was too hot for him to do so comfortably and so the young man had needed to drag himself out of bed and find the bathroom again.  
He wore a thin dressing gown to keep himself decent, thankfully the thing was not made of any thick and fluffy material which might have made him even more uncomfortable. 

By the time Arthur came down for breakfast he was dressed, but not for work outside. He wore simple shirt and slacks, as well as reading glasses which he had put on specifically to point out how he intended to spend the day.  
Thoughts of what he’d heard last night were distracting him, and Arthur didn’t look very focused or responsive as he leant against the doorframe in the kitchen. At least he looked better than Alfred did, even if the American had so rudely decided to disturb his sleep. Alfred was a mess; he looked tired, his hair was messy and he had obvious dark bags under his eyes. 

Alfred was already eating something; he also drank some low quality, cheap coffee. He was wearing another flannel today, though Arthur noticed that it was the same jeans as yesterday. Alfred looked back at him upon hearing the Brit enter, then rolled his eyes and looked back at his coffee.  
“Not the best clothes for work but fine, if you wanna go for it like that then it don’t bother me none.” he mumbled, sounding very tired. He also shifted a little on his chair, hoping nobody would actually notice that he wasn’t sitting comfortably. Arthur noticed, but Alfred didn’t know what the brit was smirking about and just took a large gulp of his coffee.  
“I‘m gonna show you how to use a scythe today” he said and groaned softly, already knowing that Arthur wouldn‘t cooperate. The young man really was not going to make his headache any better. “...Oh fuckin hell“ he muttered and rubbed his face tiredly.

Arthur left his spot in the doorway and started to look for the tea, but apparently there wasn’t even a teapot to be found. The brit ignored Alfred initially, but after begrudgingly preparing himself some of this commoner’s coffee, he was sat at the table to eat. Apparently, the man of the house had already finished eating, at least Arthur supposed that was the case from the empty plates on the table.  
“Alright.” He agreed. It was surprising how quickly he did so, but Arthur hadn’t had a change of heart. It would just be easier for him to hide somewhere in a barn or in the long grass than to protest further. If he just argued then he was going to have to go outside sooner or later, so he may as well go out on his own terms.  
Alfred was rather surprised by the other’s positive reply and blinked a few times, not being sure if he had heard him correctly, letting out a relieved sigh. 

Arthur was quiet as he sipped the disgusting coffee, then turned his green eyes to focus on Alfred. He looked so rough, he wasn’t sure how some uncouth hillbilly could possibly attract a partner that wasn’t a horse or a scarecrow.  
“So, where did you bugger off to last night?” He asked casually,  
smirking as he refused to take his eyes off Alfred. He was very convinced that there had been some buggery going on, that much was certain. It was hilarious.

Alfred didn’t see what the joke was, though Arthur seemed more vicious than amused. He had watched the other man search before settling on coffee and came to the obvious conclusion that their English visitor was in all likelihood more accustomed to tea.  
“Huh... You like tea for breakfast, I guess? We’ll go to the market tomorrow to sell some things, so we can look out for some tea” he said with a shrug and ignored him again until he was asked where he was yesterday. He looked back at him and frowned softly, not liking his smirk at all. “I went to the city, met some friends... What do you even care?” he asked and took another sip of the bitter coffee he was used to drink and put the mug down, then rubbed his temples. “Why are you askin’?” he asked and leaned back on his seat as he finished breakfast

Arthur hadn’t stopped smirking at him until he shrugged and took another sip of coffee. He was feigning nonchalance and did a fairly good job at it.  
“You should have had tea already. And it’s nothing more than curiosity, there’s not very much around and I was wondering what there is to do around here. I suspect there’s a church and perhaps an escaped goat or two but that’s hardly going to make for an interesting evening.”  
“Oh fuck off. Should I smell that you want tea?” he asked and rolled his eyes, then groaned.“There’s a small club in town” he said and got up, looking at him.

The Newcomer tried his hardest, but the smirk was back and Arthur stood up after finishing only half of his drink. Pushing himself to drink any more wasn’t going to work.  
“I’m surprised you got anywhere riding that thing, if I’m being perfectly honest with you.”

“You go change into something suited for work, and get ready to go out on the fields with me later” Alfred said and sighed, then huffed. “What are you playing at? At least I have the chance to leave, unlike you” he said, being obviously annoyed now. “You get dressed and I’m gonna grind the scythes and get you after I’m done, got it?” he asked and pushed a hand through his dirty blonde hair. “Let’s just get this over with...” he said and took a deep breath before he walked towards the exit. “I’ll get you in a few, yeah?” he said and walked out.

 

Arthur had gone upstairs, quite eager to escape the annoying American. Alfred wasn’t quite as friendly as he’d been afraid, and Arthur was honestly glad. If he was unhappy while he stayed here, then it would be annoying to see Alfred constantly grinning.  
He didn’t get changed right away. Arthur was more concerned with where he could hide a book. He wanted to read when he managed to sneak away from Alfred, After all. He tried slipping his little paper backs under his shirt and didn’t have it in him to try and fit it down his trousers. He was quite sure a square bulge would be noticeable anywhere.  
As a result, he ended up taking a small notebook and tucking it into his trouser pocket with a pen. If he couldn’t read, then he would just have to write.  
At the sound of something happening outside, the Brit went to his window and glanced out of it. Alfred was out there, grinding scythes as promised.  
The yank worked under the Brit’s window, his usual working spot. All of Alfred’s privacy was basically on ‘Arthur’s side’ of the house since none of the Blairs lived here. He unbuttoned the first three buttons of his flannel and grinded one scythe, humming a bit as he did so. It was somewhat exhausting, but he supposed it was alright. After he finished one, he did the other one, and after half an hour, he wiped his forehead and looked up at the window. “Hey Arthur!! You ready now?!” he called out.

 

He didn’t expect quite a nice view, but even if Alfred was an idiot when he opened his mouth Arthur could still appreciate a good physique when he saw one. He chewed on the end of his glasses, quite caught up in watching Alfred work when the young man did the worst thing he was capable of.  
Alfred opened his mouth and Arthur winced. The accent was just annoying, and even worse he had been caught staring.  
“I was wondering when you’d finish making such a racket.” He called back in annoyance, and Arthur soon disappeared from the window to join Alfred downstairs.  
He was wearing the same as before, and even went as far as to gel his hair into his usual neat style so that he didn’t look as messy or as common as Alfred did. He had to live with these people, but he didn’t have to live like them.  
Dress shoes weren’t a good idea, but Arthur hadn’t even packed things he could comfortably do work in. Such a thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. 

Alfred was wondering why the Brit had started watching him anyway, and as he heard him he rolled his eyes. "At least I do something /productive/" he said and looked at him with raised eyebrows as he took in his appearance. "...I told you to change, not to style your hair" he said and crossed his arms, frowning now. "But if you want to ruin your shoes and clothes, I'm not stopping you" he said and sighed, then rubbed his temples before he handed him one of the now sharp scythes. Arthur hadn’t expected it to weigh what it did, being tugged down slightly by the weight of it in his hands.  
“You can’t expect me to use one of those, can you? I’ll lose a bloody thumb.” Arthur complained, wincing as he looked at the strange object. He’d never seen such a thing in real life.

"Huh? You act like you're smart so I'm sure you won't lose a thumb" he said and gave him an encouraging, yet somewhat mocking nod before he held his own and walked to a tractor with him.  
The pair of them walked through the grass to where the Tractor was parked, and Arthur looked at the odd thing he was holding before piping up again with another complaint.  
“I’m likely to stab myself with a letter opener, do you honestly trust me with one of these?”

"Yep I trust you with it. Do you even know what it's called?" he asked and turned around to look at him. "Or what we're gonna do with it?" he asked and smirked with one corner of his mouth, looking back at him as he got onto the small, red tractor.

Arthur grew uncomfortable, taking a long look at the Scythe with a worried expression. As much of a smart arse as he was, Arthur was still a pampered city boy and had no idea what he was doing when presented with such an object.  
“Er...right...this is...a Scythe, and I suppose we’ll be reaping the souls of the damned?” He suggested, grimacing as he held it. It was heavier than he had expected it to be.  
He looked at the tractor and his eyes widened when he took in where he was supposed to sit.  
“What?! No way! That’s filthy and I don’t think it’s even a seat“ he pointed out. Arthur glared up at him. So, Alfred thought he was clever, did he?  
“You’re smart so you must know how to use this”. He huffed and climbed onto the tractor awkwardly, not quite knowing what to do with the Scythe he was holding. He made it onto the dusty tractor and wore a scowl, but it wasn’t like Arthur planned on washing his own clothes.  
“I’d rather be reading than stuck out here with you all day, so don’t waste my time out here. This is still my summer holiday, you know.” 

The tractor was started up by Alfred, however the englishman accompanying him on it didn’t seem at all impressed that the other could drive such an odd vehicle. Alfred wasn’t sure what to say at first, and apparently Arthur had no intention of helping him out. The two drove through the sunny Virginian landscape in silence for some time, before Alfred tried to bring Arthur’s attention away from whatever the young man was daydreaming about. 

 

“What is that book you read about anyway?” the young farmer asked while he drove, only to get a quick answer to his question and the result of Arthur turning his nose up at him.  
“Fucking hell...It’s about a vain young fellow who sells his soul to the devil in exchange for eternal youth, of course it’s hardly intentional. I doubt you’d understand the  
complexities of it.”

Alfred ws listening to him as he told him about the book. “...It sounds interesting. But how do you know that I won’t get the complexities of it? There’s only one way to find out... am I allowed to borrow it after you finished reading?” he asked, already knowing that the other would say ‘no’, but he just needed to ask.  
He didn’t answer Alfred’s question, leaving the request to borrow his book without a response.  
They drove further away from the farm, out on the huge fields, until they reached a field where grass, herbs and flowers grew. “Alright, there we are” he said and stopped the tractor and turned it off “Now, we gotta cut the grass down and afterwards we have to move it to small heaps so that it dries.” he said and hopped off the tractor, holding his scythe. “Okay, I’m gonna show you how to hold it, yeah?” he said and moved into the right position to do it and showed Arthur. “Like this... And you move it like that to cut the grass” he said and stepped away a bit so that he could chop the grass down like that, looking quite cool as he did so, it looked like a quite exhausting movement and Alfred’s muscles flexed. “Try it” he said and stood straight again, looking at Arthur. He glanced at how dusty Arthur’s nice clothes, and he was quite sure that the young man hadn’t done lundry once in his life.  
“Hope you brought some soap with you, Kirky” he said and grinned,

 

When Alfred finally showed him how to do the task Arthur had laughed.  
“You can’t be serious.” He didn’t even attempt to cut Anything with the Scythe, instead he stood holding it and looking at the grass in disbelief. After a moment he scowled at him and then at his dirty clothes.  
“It’s Kirkland, Actually. You should recognise the name, we sell a lot of products.” He stated.  
“I know your name. But you apparently don’t even know /mine/ so I see no use in actually calling you something serious” he stated and sighed, then bit his lip. “I was actually excited to see you” he muttered and took a deep breath. “Can’t believe I did that” he muttered.

 

After he showed Arthur, he frowned and moved the scythe a little towards him. Arthur wasn’t having it, though. The young man had yet to even try repeating Alfred’s actions. He began to look smug, and after the brit opened his mouth Alfred found out why.  
“ Listen, I know that Mummy and Daddy weren’t serious about sending me to do manual labour.” He answered, beginning to smirk as he set the Scythe down on the ground and took out a handkerchief. “So, you can drop the act now, I’ll go back inside and wait for the cab who’ll take me to a nice hotel until I can go home.”

 

“Does this look like joking to you?” he asked and then snorted, rolling his eyes at his new comment. “They weren’t, really? So why the hell are you here now, with me, and ‘oh so bloody stupid redneck’ on a field, in the middle of Virginia?” he asked and shook his head. “I don’t think you’ll find a nice hotel around here” he said and put the scythe down as well. “Why don’t you just cooperate? You don’t even have to do much work because the Blairs are planning on being easy on you, and you just act like the cocky, spoilt bastard who thinks he knows everything” he said and picked his scythe up again. 

 

He bit down on his tongue quite hard when Alfred told him off, the Brit clenching his fists by his sides and glaring up at him. He was too confrontational and prideful to look away when Alfred spoke to him.  
“Well you’re right about one thing.” He began, speaking slowly and deliberately. He seemed to be thinking about what he wanted to say, rather than retaliating immediately.  
“You are a bloody stupid redneck.” 

Alfred looked at him, waiting for his answer... only to be disappointed with the phrase he said earlier. “Just... awesome” he said and continued working, still being rather angry at Arthur. “You know what, Kirkland? Tomorrow you’ll just do stuff with Nancy or George, have fun feeding pigs and milking some cows... but if you wanna stay inside feel free to clean!” he said, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand; he may shouldn’t have said that, what if Mr. Blair found out? God that wasn’t good, Alfred was supposed to be nice to Arthur... But he couldn’t, the Brit could just suck on his balls and piss off later!  
“Just cooperate or sit down in the shadow of the tractor and do something quiet” he added and grunted, then got to work again, obviously pissed off because of Arthur

 

Arthur turned away from him to sit down in the grass awkwardly, not leaning against the tractor due to how dirty it was. He took out a cigarette case and smoked quietly behind the tractor. Sitting here in awful silence was far better than being out there with Alfred’s eyes on him, and Arthur prayed the time would go quickly so that he could quickly return to his room.

 

Alfred soon finished cutting some grass and panted as he went to move it on small heaps, making it look organized. After a few more hours of working, the sun was about to set, and the American went back to the tractor, walking up to Arthur. “We can go back” he grunted, looking down at him and tapping his foot on the grass impatiently. Alfred had been made to do all of the work, he had a right to be annoyed when that British brat had just sat here and let Alfred work his arse off.

Arthur’s face was quite red by then, obviously sunburnt. There wasn’t really anything he could do besides sitting in the shade, and he glared up at Alfred when they were finally allowed to leave. It wouldn’t have taken so long if he had helped, but Arthur looked as though he blamed Alfred for his plight. Despite having done nothing for the hours spent out there, Arthur’s shirt was sticking to his sweaty form. He looked incredibly undignified, standing up and tucking the notebook he had been doodling in back into his pocket. He didn’t say a word to Alfred. He gave him the cold shoulder and climbed onto the tractor with some difficulty.  
That bastard, the utter bastard. He certainly had no intention of milking cows for the rest of the summer. He had left the Scythe in the grass where he had put it down many hours ago and made no attempt to get it again. He simply sat with his arms folded and his face turned away from Alfred.

Alfred was simply done by now and glared right back at Arthur, sighing afterwards as he noticed the missing scythe. He hopped off the tractor again even though he was exhausted and really sweaty. “Hold it, please” he said and handed him the scythe as he got back up onto the tractor, starting it. “I can’t drive if I’m holding two” he said and waited for some cooperation if it was about going back home. As soon as everything was handled out, he drove them back, not saying a word this time; oh, he had enough of Kirkland. His mood still wasn’t good as he parked, got the scythes and put them into their place, not saying a thing to Arthur. He had wasted so much time on the field that there was no time left to help out, but he actually just didn’t have the energy with his hangover anymore.

The drive back was more painful than the drive there. Not a word was said, and the pair only had the sound of the tractor’s engine and the wild crickets to distract from the silence between them. Alfred’s entire body was aching and he couldn’t wait to go to bed. Arthur’s face hurt. His freckles were coming out and he unfortunately had to deal with the peeling skin on his nose. He didn’t waste another second of his time around Alfred. Instead of waiting around or joining anyone for dinner he took an apple and a few biscuits to his room where he decided to stay until tomorrow. He was not going to cry over the possibility of being stuck here until autumn, that simply was not going to happen.  
He wanted to cry, the stress of not getting his own way was astoundingly intense for the poor brat.  
He stayed in bed to read, finishing Dorian Grey quickly and cursing the fact that he could no longer hide away in the book’s fantasy universe. He longed to return to the cruel painting and sweet Basil Hallward, but unfortunately the friends he had in books were lost to him as soon as he reached the last chapter.  
Laying on his bed with his awful shirt finally stripped off and his uncomfortable shoes neatly left by the door, Arthur turned back to page one and let himself fall in love with Dorian all over again. His only movement was to switch on a light when the window no longer supported his habit.

Elsewhere in the house, Alfred decided that he didn’t care anymore at this point. Arthur had just annoyed the hell out of him and left him to do all of the work on his own!  
The family came together for dinner as they usually did and this time around Alfred was more than relieved that Arthur didn’t bother to show up to dinner today; hopefully he’d never come downstairs again! The American went to his room later than Arthur despite being far more exhausted. He lay down on his comfortable bed after he had taken off his boots and flannel and looked at the ceiling.  
How could someone look all good and have such beautiful eyes and have such an annoying and shitty personality? Alfred started thinking, slowly getting lost in his contradictory thoughts. The world truly was not a fair place, Arthur was blessed in every way imaginable and yet he was the most detestable young man Alfred had ever met. Arthur had good health, wealth, and good lucks. He deserved none of those things, and certainly not all three.  
He sighed and decided to hide under the light blanket, hoping that such thoughts were more critical of Arthur than fuelled by attraction.  
But Arthur was just an attractive bastard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully someone enjoys reading this thing. We found that the roleplay was at fanfiction lengths and decided to make a few changes to publish it on here. Reviews are greatly appreciated! Feel free to let us know what you think will happen next, so that we can laugh and cry into a ridiculously slow google doc.


	3. Flip, Flop and Fly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeet

Another day of bright sunshine was just around the corner for those residing in the old farmhouse. That morning, Mr. Blair had asked Alfred to wake Arthur up again and made a quick joke about overlooking his missing cigarettes if Alfred would be nice to the young man.  
As Alfred departed to wake up their guest for the day’s work, Mr Blair had gone outside to fetch his paper. He glanced at the headline and enjoyed the fresh air, however he was hardly reading any articles. The man was off in his own world, organising his thoughts as he gazed out at the farm he had once inherited from his father.  
They weren’t rich by any means, and Alfred wasn’t his child. He’d taken him in, but he hadn’t adopted him and he still had his own two children to think about. Alfred could never inherit the farm, it would be George’s someday. 

But the Kirklands were paying them a fair amount to keep Arthur for the whole summer, and part of the reason he’d agreed was to be able to leave Alfred something when he died even if the farm wasn’t going to be his. 

Alfred had made his way to the other side of the house by now, heading off to wake their guest even though he didn’t want to see the Brit right now. Unfortunately he had no other choice.  
He sighed as he stood in front of the door and knocked. “Arthur? It’s morning, time to get up” he said and knocked again, louder this time. He wanted to make sure the other was up, and he couldn’t have cared less about being polite. He waited outside for a reply, hoping that Arthur would finally accept the fact that he would be working here and that he wouldn’t be as difficult today.  
As he waited and leaned against the opposite wall, Alfred thought about how excited he had been to have someone his own age on the farm. Looking at the closed door, he considered the locked door to be a godsend for now. He really didn’t want to see Arthur’s face at the moment.  
Alfred was not left alone with his thoughts for very long, a groan could be heard from the bedroom and the virginian straightened up before knocking the door again. 

Arthur didn’t really want to get up, but he grabbed his towel and opened to door to walk past Alfred and find the bathroom. He needed a shower, that was for sure. He was British, he was in no way prepared for such ridiculous heat!  
Typically he would use copious amounts of gel to keep his hair back, and as Arthur passed into the hallway it occured to Alfred that the loose style suited Arthur so much more.  
His pyjama bottoms were clearly expensive, everything he’d taken with him could be classed as such. Alfred’s eyes didn’t leave the Brit, but none of them bothered to say a word the other, simply minding their own business. The clothes of the other made the American’s stomach twist and turn in.. jealousy? Anger? He couldn’t tell, but the thing he could tell was that such clothes certainly weren’t the best choice for a summer on a farm.

Eventually, Arthur escaped Alfred’s observant gaze and headed into the bathroom to get washed and dressed in privacy. His absence left Alfred with nothing left to stare at, and he quickly left his spot to instead head to the kitchen. Arthur really was a prissy brat, he didn’t even have to say anything to have Alfred’s blood boiling.  
“Get yourself together, man..” he muttered to himself and started to walk downstairs again.

Meanwhile Arthur had his own things to worry about. He stared at the clothes on the floor now that he was more awake. He had left the clothes in the bathroom and they were still there. Not a single person had thought to move them and take them away to be washed. Gritting his teeth, he decided to set the problem right.  
Arthur gripped his towel tightly under his arm and held the dirty clothes in his free hand, going off to find Alfred and have him explain why the clothes were still here.

It didn’t take long to catch up to Alfred, and the second their eyes met Arthur had already demanded answers from him. “Excuse me, but why haven’t these been washed? They were on the floor all night and they’ve not been moved”, he stated, holding the dustry trousers into the taller man’s face. 

“Huh? You want me to come in your room in the middle of the night to get your clothes?” Alfred asked in return and cracked a grin now and shook his head. “I’m not your servant, you know. Maybe if you’d ask nicely someone would wash them for you, but you can do it yourself too. You have two hands after all and I won’t run after you and ask you if I can wash your stuff and clean your room up.”

That wasn’t quite the answer Arthur had expected. The Brit couldn’t wash them himself, what on Earth was Alfred saying? He couldn’t stand how smug Alfred seemed, like Arthur was some kind of joke. There wasn’t anything funny about him!  
“Well then, can you please wash these for me. It’s your fault they’re dirty in the first place.” He complained. Alfred was probably going to reiterate that he wasn’t a servant, and then smirk at him again as though that was somehow a smart answer.

Alfred crossed his arms as he heard him, then huffed.It wasn’t his fault that Arthur’s clothes were dirty! Alfred wanted to clarify that he wasn’t a servant once more but the grumpy Brit had straightened up, glared at him and interrupted him before Alfred would get the chance. “I’ll let you borrow any of my books. If you clean these while I’m here.” He looked nervous as he made his offer, the books were important and he didn’t trust Alfred not to tear or smudge the pages. The man was so uncouth, but it would be worse if Arthur was forced to wear dirty clothes all summer.  
The other man had shown an interest in the books before, perhaps Arthur could use them as a means of getting what he wanted.

“Wait.. what?” he asked once Arthur stopped talking- was that bastard serious? “I can borrow any book?” he asked, wanting to make sure that this wasn’t some kind of sarcastic joke the other made, but he only earned a little nod from the Brit. “Deal, I’ll wash your clothes and can borrow any book I want to. Just tell me if you want something washed and give it to me” he said and reached his hand out for him to shake; his hand was clean, at least it looked clean. “I’ll get them clean after breakfast”

Arthur hadn’t taken a moment to consider the handshake, instead he handed him the clothes when Alfred offered him a hand. He seemed pleased with the arrangement and fixed Alfred with a smile. “Wonderful, Alan. Here you go, I’m going to get dressed.” He continued to smile, and then turned around to return to his room. After a series of disappointments, it felt excellent to have a success under his belt.  
He didn’t see Alfred’s confusion at being handed the dirty clothes, or the way his face fell when his name was forgotten by the other. Alan?! What the hell?  
“...Alfred! I’m Alfred, you bast-” He stopped in exasperation when he saw that Arthur’s door was already closed. The absolute bastard.

 

 

After some time, Arthur had had gotten comfortable on the windowsill. Regardless of what the people here thought of him, Arthur wasn’t a stranger to getting into scrapes. The height of the window certainly didn’t scare him, Arthur found solace in the view he got from it. It wasn’t the calm english fields he adored, nor was it the comfortable bustle of London life that he was used to. He missed the green sports field of his school and the rustic old bricks of the place he called home. At the very least, he found a comfortable spot with his leg dangling from the windowsill and allowed his book to take him out of his situation. Suddenly Arthur was in another world, one in which his own problems and heartache didn’t apply to him. A different place, a different time, and seeing the world through the eyes of another person.

There was no escape quite as lucrative as books, but Arthur was torn out of his immersion before even half an hour had passed. He was disturbed by Alfred, working in his troublesome little spot beneath Arthur’s window. It was incredibly thoughtless of the brat to impose on him like this. At the very least some manners were required. Didn’t he know not to bother people during their alone time? He peered down at the young man washing his clothes and wrinkled his nose. “Do you really have to make quite so much noise?”

The question was met with a loud huff, Alfred taking a seat on an old stool to wash the other’s far too expensive clothes. Alfred glanced up at the house and spotted the owner of the clothes he was washing, wondering if he should say something in reply. “Do you even know my name?” he asked and frowned a little, not thinking that Arthur got that he wasn’t a son of the Blairs. The Brit in question was sat comfortably and swinging the leg which hung outside of the window. When he heard Alfred calling out his reply, Arthur looked down from his book. 

 

“Hm? Yes, Albert Blair, aren’t you?” He responded with a raised eyebrow, looking out of the window at Alfred curiously. “Though I suppose I could just call you a prick.” he added quickly before he smirked smugly.

Alfred snorted as he heard him. “Sure, Armin Kirkfuck” he said and rolled his eyes at him, while he continued washing Arthur’s clothes. “Tsk, if I’m a prick, what are you? King of the pricks?” he asked and looked up at him with a smirk. “Sorry to disappoint you there, majesty of all the pricks, but I’m not a Blair” he said and soon went to wash the spoiled brat’s trousers, trying to shrug the humiliating feeling off like it was nothing.  
Arthur scowled down at him at the retort, swinging his other leg around so that both of them hung out of the window.  
“You know my name, what the hell are you getting at? You’re about my age, and yet you’re so much more immature than Nancy and George are.” The answer seemed to tick Alfred off, for he couldn’t help but quickly shot back a harsh answer.  
“I know your name and you obviously know Nancy’s and George’s names as well but it’s too hard for you to call me Alfred?!” while he was still washing those God damned clothes. Arthur’s attitude was really eating at him, he was so privileged and yet did nothing but demand more. What would it take to satisfy the bastard?! Alfred was sure he would never understand, not only did Arthur demand to be held on a pedestal but he also treated everyone else like dirt. Alfred had none nothing to deserve Arthur’s cruel behaviour and yet was getting the brunt of it.  
Arthur put his book down and looked down at him, obviously unimpressed as he watched Alfred work.  
“If you aren’t a Blair then why exactly are you here?”  
He seemed to have taken an interest in Alfred now, despite not caring enough to remember his name. He seemed unaware of the frustration building up in the other man, though the force with which Alfred was cleaning the clothes should have made it more than obvious how he was feeling at the moment.  
There was a pause in Alfred’s movements before he slowly set about scrubbing the trousers again.  
So Arthur couldn’t remember his name, but he could show enough of an interest to ask about such an upsetting subject. Never much of the bashful type, he lifted his head to look in Arthur’s direction as he grunted out an answer.  
“...My parents died when I was around eight, and I lost my twin brother. Mr. Blair took me in after he found me in town. My parents sent me to school, so if you’re wondering then yes I can read and write. I can do math, too.” He explained shortly before he looked down again; the thought of his parents hurt, but after so many years the pain slowly dulled. He would never be completely over it, but he knew how to deal with it. No one would say that Alfred wasn’t emotional, but such a deep hurt had to be allowed to heal with time if he wanted to get on with his life.  
Still, it was a topic the farmer had tried to avoid lots. It wasn’t something he liked to think about, but it was undeniably his reality.  
Besides, whole town knew about it anyway. Most people didn’t bother asking him about it and over the years the pitying glances had gone away as other news and gossip filled the townspeople’s minds.  
He was a family member of the Blairs now, and it was good like that. He was grateful for that, even if he didn’t adopt their last name.

He looked at Arthur, not feeling particularly satisfied by the unsure look on the man’s face. It was the same sort of look he was used to getting. People didn’t know what to say, they felt sorry for him.  
He hated it.  
Alfred wasn’t particularly surprised when Arthur changed the subject. Trust the spoilt brat to not have any consoling words for him. It didn’t matter that Alfred hated those words, at the very least people were trying to make him feel better. Still, Arthur had the good sense to look at least a little bit ashamed.  
“W-Well, Never Mind exactly. Just be careful with that pair of trousers. Your- Your, uh...rough hands could easily tear it.” He murmured sheepishly. Arthur made sure to throw in a little comment, trying to insult Alfred’s appearance to maintain some form of the normality he had come to know with the other young man. He couldn’t be too rude, Alfred really hadn’t had an easy life. Still that didn’t mean that Arthur should give him any special treatment. As far as being orphaned went Alfred had obviously hit the jackpot. He had a home and had learned enough trade skills to find work when he finally went off to live independently. He bit his lip, trying to justify his own behaviour. 

Alfred sighed and nodded. “..Yeah.. Whatever.. Just call me Alfred, next time” he said and focused back on the trousers, washing them more carefully. Arthur nodded silently, glancing thoughtfully to his own hands.  
“R-Right. Alfred.” he muttered before he fell quiet again.  
After some silence between the two, Alfred had sighed. If Arthur hadn’t left yet then he had no reason to believe that he would do so now. As usual it was up to Alfred to be the bigger person, who could expect a spoilt brat to be mature.  
“I won’t break them, don’t worry” he muttered and looked at his quite big hands. “...I have rough hands? I never noticed” he said and squinted a little before he looked up at him again. It struck him as a strange observation to make, and it wasn’t particularly insulting.  
“Anyway, what book are you currently reading? I can’t see it from down here, man.” Alfred asked about the book he was reading and Arthur was quiet as he considered the way he might answer. He looked to his book again and then grasped the windowsill to climb out of the window, book tucked under his armpit. It took him a moment to find his footing, but the old bricks managed to give him something to hold onto. His efforts were impressive to Alfred, who would not have expected any physical feat from the princess.  
When he was halfway down he let go and jumped to the ground, standing up straight and looking across at Alfred. The American was honestly surprised that Arthur had managed to climb out of the window like this. The fact that he had sat in the window without fear of falling was a treat in itself.  
With Arthur finally on the same level as Alfred, he straightened up and looked across at him. They were having a conversation, and perhaps climbing down had been impulsive but it had just felt right.  
“It’s The picture of Dorian Gray, Still. I don’t think you’d like it much, though.” He watched Alfred nod silently, glancing thoughtfully to his hands.

“Oh! Hm... It’s funny, you don’t even really know me and yet you think that I won’t like the book... I’d love to borrow it if you’re done reading it. Or maybe I can borrow another one?” He asked and tilted his head, then sighed. “I... I’m sorry that I can’t offer you a book to borrow, I just have... Never mind” he muttered, seeming to be embarrassed about the books he owned. Two books filled with fairy tales he used to read to Nancy and George and a school math book he had bought a year ago or two.  
Arthur bit his lip. He wasn’t sure if he should hand the book over to Alfred, he knew that Alfred had an interest in men but to hand over the book would unfortunately hint at Arthur’s own preferences. He hesitated, then considered the cover with a frown.  
“It’s just a silly story about a painting, really. I know it’s silly, but I like to read about it for the romance between the main character and a delightful little actress later in the book...” he lied as he glanced at the book again. “Just get it later, I don’t want it to get dirty” He added, still holding it in his slim, pale hands.  
“Ah.. Thanks! I’m pretty sure I’ll enjoy reading that.” he stated before he finished washing the clothes, starting to think where to hang these up to dry.  
“ Anyway... Maybe you can help Nancy out today? Since you don’t like the fields, I guess it’s no use bringin’ you there” he said and laughed softly as he pulled his hands out of the bucked, rubbing them on his jeans to dry them.  
Arthur folded his arms then, already regretting coming out into the sun. He watched Alfred take his clothes out and shrugged slightly.  
“Actually, I thought I’d be better off staying out of the sun mostly. My nose is starting to peel..”

“Your decision, really. If Mr. Blair asks what you did, you’ll have to explain” he responded before he started to think about a good place to hang them up around the house. Arthur had rolled his eyes at being expected to answer for his laziness. It wasn’t as though Arthur had bloody volunteered to come here! This was a punishment, he was under no obligation to do as he was told.  
“Right, I think I can handle Mr. Blair.” He groaned, stepping away.

Soon Alfred figured out it’d be best to hang them to the family’s clothes; Alfred was sure Mrs. Blair could tell that those fancy clothes belonged to Arthur.  
“Good luck with your nose, though… Maybe we have cream somewhere, I can go ask later... And Arthur… Will you join dinner today?”  
Arthur had been looking up at the wall, but he wouldn’t be able to climb up without a great deal of drainpipe shimmying. Alfred’s question certainly didn’t go unheard by him, but there was hesitation before he answered.  
“...I’m going inside. I’ll eat dinner in my room.”  
With that, the blond had left for the cooler interior of the house without looking back once. 

Once he was back inside, Arthur called his parents on the phone. It was frustrating having to wait a while before he got a response from them. He got straight to the point and demanded to know why Mr Blair was apparently allowed to keep Arthur away from his allowance. He had been told that he would at least get a fair amount of spending money during his stay in America, but there had been a catch which Arthur wasn’t aware of until his arrival. There was a lot of arguing, of course. Arthur couldn’t win against his father.  
“What do you mean I have to earn my allowance, Daddy?! That’s utterly ridiculous, I earned it by getting the best grades in my class. What am I supposed to do in America without any capital?!”  
He was silent a moment, tapping his foot impatiently and listening to his father’s disinterested response. He always had better luck with his mother, but unfortunately his father had no interest in passing the phone to her.  
“No. Put mummy on. She’s the only one out of the pair of you who ever sees any sense-“ he stopped abruptly when he heard the tone that told him his father had hung up on him, and Arthur slammed the phone back down with a grunt. He couldn’t believe the injustice in having been given an allowance to take with him, but his new caretaker Mr. Blair having it.  
Arthur gritted his teeth and begrudgingly went to join Nancy in collecting eggs. It was utterly humiliating. Not only was he being made to do manual labour against his will, but he had to do the work of a little girl. Arthur was a man! He should be riding his bike into town and enjoying the nightlife London had to offer. Instead he was stuck here, with a little tomboyish girl who had the same terrible accent as the rest of them. He didn’t want to go anywhere near the dirty hens, but he was forced to take a basket and follow the child’s lead.

Nancy was wearing old pants that once belonged to George and one of Alfred’s old flannels that was a bit too big for her. Her hair was tied back into a messy bun and she held the basket, seeming to be happy that Arthur had joined her collecting eggs without realising how humiliating this had to be for Arthur. She was excited to have a new face around the house, the two children lived in the middle of nowhere and were homeschooled for the basics. Alfred was alright, but her brother had recently stopped spending as much time with her as when they were younger. Having someone else to talk to was very much appreciated by the girl.  
“Thanks for helping out! Have you ever collected eggs before?” She asked as she walked into the area where the nests of the hens were and opened a door to the pen where the chickens could get in because of either the weather, the night or to lay some eggs.  
“You’re from London, right?” she asked with a smile, getting into the small house that they had built for the hens and chicks.  
Arthur was in no way impressed by the job he was expected to do with the girl. Gathering eggs hardly sounded like a worthwhile use of his precious time! He followed her into the small hut and covered his poor nose with a hand. Not only did this place smell, but it was dark and small and he had to crouch while stepping over suspicious markings in the hay. Smashing.  
“Yes, London. And for the record London zoo is absolutely wonderful. The animals are all behind some kind of cage rather than in a crowded coop with you.” He murmured, grimacing before the child explained what to do with the eggs once he got them.  
“Just carefully place them in your basket and try not to get bit by one, yeah?” she said and giggled; some nests were empty, and a few eggs lay in them, and in some nests sat some chickens, which stared at them picking the eggs.  
“We have to get em all; can you do that one?” she asked and pointed at a chicken in a nest.  
Arthur obviously didn’t like putting the eggs into his basket, but he did as the girl told him to while doing his best to tune out her chattering.  
“I wonder what’s it like in London... And a zoo sounds really interesting, what kind of animals are in there?” she asked and look at him curiously, before she asked a question about his age, tilting her head like Alfred used to do.

Instead of an answer, Nancy got something a tad more inappropriate; a few curse words and complaining just slipped out of the Brit’s mouth as he was pecked by one of the hens sitting in the nests.“Oh- Fuck, what a little bastard! This cheeky blighter’s only gone and pecked me! The daft cunt...” he called out, sticking his finger into his mouth and glaring over at the guilty hen.

Nancy quickly went over to him as he started cursing and looked at him in a worried way. “Are you okay?” she asked and frowned a little. “...And daft cunt? What does that mean?” she asked, being a quite innocent child. Arthur’s face flushed when he realised that he had introduced the child to a new curse word. He bit his lip and patted her shoulder awkwardly.  
“Maybe you shouldn’t repeat that, Nancy.” Not listening to the other, she was already explaining how to actually remove a hen from the nest, asking him to get the eggs without a hen in the nest. After explaining, the girl giggled, then went to the hen that pecked Arthur and carefully picked it up to give it a soft pat, but then gasped as she noticed something.  
“Oh!! Arthur come look!” she said and showed him the back side of the chicken. “Look, it’s about to lay an egg” she said and helped the chicken lay the egg in front of Arthur’s eyes.

Arthur, who was already busied with collecting the rest of the eggs, turned away from his basket at the sound of her voice. “Hm? What did you want to...to...is that her...?”  
His eyes widened, and his face paled at the sight in front of him. That was really a chicken laying the egg, it was just disgusting! She had showed Arthur the hen which was just laying an egg into her hand. Arthur’s reaction really confused Nancy; that was a super normal thing, why was it so weird for Arthur? “Yeah, that’s the one that pecked you... I guess it simply did it because it was about to lay an egg” she said and watched Arthur in a quite oblivious way, putting to egg into the basket before she put the chicken down again.  
“Uh, you Really...oh...Fuck.” He turned his head away, but the basket of eggs seemed to horrify him when he looked at them again. They’d all come out in the same way as that egg had- he might have to give eggs a miss at breakfast.  
He quickly picked up some eggs which weren’t being sat on and went to escape. His awkward position made Arthur trip on the way out and he narrowly avoided falling on his basket.  
He really didn’t like the floor, he was met with hay and crap, and the blond quickly climbed out to dust himself off. “Fucking hell, this is bullshit!” He exclaimed to himself, trying to salvage his white shirt.  
“Did you hurt yourself?” she asked and looked at Arthur cursing and brushing his shirt off. She glanced at the basket on the floor, glad that none of them broke. “Everything okay?” she asked, watching him trying to save his now dirty clothes. “Maybe it would be better to ask Alfred for some clothes to work in so that yours won’t get that dirty. They seem mighty expensive.” she said and tilted her head.

Arthur frowned and grabbed his basket, clearly quite frustrated now. “No, I’ll get something when we go to the market. I have no interest in wearing Alfred’s old clothes.” He grumbled and looked down at the little girl.  
“Are we ready to go back yet? It’s far too hot out here…”

“Okay” she said softly and sighed softly, then looked back inside again. “Ah, yeah! We can go inside” she said with a small smile and hopped out of the coop, then went inside with him, putting her basket into the kitchen. “So... What do you usually do at home?” she asked and looked up at him. “Uhm... We can bake something if you like baking!” she suggested; Nancy wasn’t introduced to much of what girls had to do and what boys had to do. All she knew was that boys didn’t know how to cook, so girls had to do that. “Please? Bake with me?” she asked him, looking up at him with puppy eyes, almost begging.  
Arthur glanced down at her and found it hard to be angry when the kid suggested baking. She seemed around the same age as Peter, and as annoying as his own brother was it was a familiar thing to have a kid around the house. Peter was a brat, but he was still his brother. And besides, Arthur had always hated being treated as stupid by adults purely because he was younger than them. Surely there would be no harm in extending a little bit of kindness to this girl, especially if it counted as an apology for assaulting her innocent ears earlier.  
“I usually read or take my bike out somewhere to listen to music.” He responded with a smile.  
He raised an eyebrow at her when asked to bake, and Arthur nodded. “Alright, I would love to.” At least he could get his revenge on that chicken by making her eggs into a delicious treat. Serves the bastard right.  
“How about we make some biscuits? I know a good shortbread recipe that mummy taught me.” He responded when they got inside. He saw the place where the eggs were meant to go, and he put them away carefully. It wouldn’t do to break them after that long process of collecting them in the first place.  
“I could show you how to make that if you’d like.”

Nancy listened to him and gasped. “I’ve never had shortbread ever before, I’d love to try your mommy’s recipe out!” she said, bouncing up and down lightly. “What do we need for shortbread?” she asked and looked up at him curiously again, really not understanding why Alfred was so annoyed by Arthur, he was nice!

Arthur started out by rolling up his sleeves and washing his hands. “It’s quite simple, really. Just butter, sugar, and flour.” He answered her. Arthur was in a much better mood when they were inside, and he knew quite a few good recipes after his mother had started to take advantage of the end of rationing. The boring and simple meals that had been present in the first few years of his life were replaced by real food. His mother didn’t technically need to do all of the cooking, but she’d been denied the opportunity to cook interesting meals for a long while and was only happy to show Arthur the ropes in the kitchen.  
The result of his and Nancy’s time in the kitchen was a large plate of delicious and buttery biscuits dusted with sugar. Arthur seemed happy to explain things to her and show her the recipe. He let the girl try the first of the biscuits, sitting at the table with her after the task was complete. The area wasn’t messy, but he’d still managed to get flour on his nose somehow.  
“Well? What do you think of our biscuits?”

She took another biscuit when she was allowed to and took a bite, humming. “Yum! They’re tasty!” she said happily and smiled brightly, finishing her shortbread. Arthur had laughed softly and took one of the biscuits for himself. “Well that’s hardly surprising, mummy is an excellent baker.” He stated proudly.

“I like it! And it was so easy to make…” she said, looking at them in awe. “Next time we bake we can make cornbread or an apple pie!” she said and smiled up at him. He looked down when the girl suggested that they make something else next time, and Arthur nodded in agreement  
. “Alright, you’ll have to be the teacher since I’ve never made either of those.” He told her. “What do you eat shortbread with?” she asked and giggled, looking at your nose. “You have flour on your nose, Arthur!”  
“I usually have shortbread with a cup of tea” At the mention of flour on his nose he looked down at it, raising an eyebrow.  
“Oh? That’s funny, so do you.” He was quick to get a pinch of flour  
on his fingertip and dab it on the girl’s nose with a victorious laugh, earning a loud laugh and a sneeze from the little girl. She covered her mouth with her hand like she was told to and rubbed her nose. Arthur soon wiped the flour from his own nose and got up to start cleaning the dishes. Usually their maid took care of it, but he supposed nobody else was going to do this. He felt quite homesick, Peter was a little prat most of the time but the two had shared nice experiences like this at times. He liked to think that he would be a nicer big brother to Peter upon returning home, but Arthur knew that he didn’t have the patience for that live in pest.  
He obviously didn’t know what he was doing with the dishes, as Arthur was just holding the plate under the cold water as though it might wash itself.

After she got rid of the flour, she went to stand on her tippy toes and watched him. “Won’t you wash it?” she asked and looked up at him, tilting her head, making a washing motion with her hands while Arthur was waiting for the dish to be clean. The water was slowly removing some of the flour and batter. He tilted his head and looked down at the girl again. “I...am though?” He said in confusion and held the dish a little bit closer to the faucet.

She shook her head quickly. “No.. You have to like.. uhm.. rub the dirty spots while the water pours down on it” she tried to explain how to wash a damn plate to him. Nancy really didn’t understand how Arthur could do that wrong, he seemed to be around Alfred’s age, so he had to be smart! Or at least he should know how to clean something…

Arthur looked down at her in confusion. “You mean...with my hands?”  
“Yep!” she encouraged him, smiling as she watched him clean up  
The Brit looked uncertain, losing the wise older brother act as he considered the plate he was holding. Was he really expected to touch the batter and wash it away with his fingertips? He turned off the tap, eventually finding a sponge and using that along with a bar of soap to wash the plates. He didn’t think to rinse them and left them in the sink to dry. 

 

After helping Nancy put the ingredients away Arthur had gone upstairs to his room to read a book after such a long day of work. Perhaps the situation was not as dire as he considered it to be before. He was still stuck in stupid America with no money and no communication from his selfish parents, but there was at least hope that the days would not all drag on and exhaust him. As usual, he went looking for salvation in a book and found it. There was truly nothing like the fantastic effect that a good book could have on someone. No person could replace the warm feeling that fiction had and would always supply him with. He may not be a religious man, but he certainly had faith in the written word.  
Perhaps not everything would be ok, but it would be tolerable.  
______________________________________________________________

After they finished cleaning, she went back outside to do something productive again. The day was not over, after all! She was quick to head to her father and ask him if she could help him with work. She also started telling him about how Arthur had helped her collecting eggs and that they made shortbread together.  
Once outside under the bright sun next to her father, the little girl seemed really happy and excited about the fact that the usually grumpy Brit did something with her.  
The farmer was happy to hear that Arthur had started to get along well enough with the family and seeing his daughter happy always put a smile on his face.  
“And Daddy? What does ‘daft cunt’ mean?” she asked innocently and looked up at the adult. 

The relief that Arthur might assimilate was gone when he heard those horrendous words out of his innocent daughter’s mouth. He was so shocked by what she asked him that the man didn’t know how to answer.  
“Nancy, I don’t want to hear you say that again, ya hear? It’s a bad word, only very rude grown ups should use it. Why don’t you go help George milk the cows and I’ll go speak to the young man who told you that word later.”

It was a few hours later when the young American got back from the fields. Mr Blair was clearly cross with him, pulling tired and exhausted Alfred aside and clearly not in a playful mood like usual. He’d always felt that he couldn’t be too harsh with Alfred when he wasn’t his father, but discipline was good for building character and would keep the young man out of trouble. Perhaps he had been too lax anyway if Alfred thought he could say words like that around his daughter.

“Alfred, you need to stop with the cussing all the damn time. You’re old enough and you get your work done so I’ve ignored it, but Nance came and repeated something today and I don’t want you bein’ a bad influence on the kids. I don’t want you going off on that bike to that big town you like to visit. I understand you’re at that age where a man wants to start meeting girls but the folks you’re hanging out with are clearly a bad influence on you.”

After those words were spoken, Alfred clearly tensed up, straightening his back as he was scolded like this. “But- Pops! I never cuss around them, I swear!” he said, eyes wide; had he ever cussed around Nancy? No, for fucks sake, he had always bitten his tongue around his two beloved siblings since he wanted to be a good role model. “I never talked bad in front of them, really! I try really hard to be a good influence on them, I-“ however, the protest didn’t really seem to work at all, and as soon as the young adult realized that he wasn’t allowed to go out anymore, he narrowed his eyes and continued protesting. “What no! Please, that’s the worst! I’ve worked so hard for it and I even borrowed money from you to buy it, it’d be useless if I couldn’t go back to town!” He paused for a few seconds, only to catch his breath before he went on with his rambling. “Please, they ain’t bad influence, I never said a bad word around the kids, please don’t forbid me to go out”

The words Alfred spoke clearly weren’t impressing the farmer, and the young man felt his heart sink a little bit.  
“Alfred, c’mon now. It ain’t dignified to beg. I just don’t want you going out to that town at night, I never said you couldn’t use the bike still.” he stepped away, looking at him in disappointment. “But...! I didn’t do anything wrong, I never said anything bad around them!” he said, seeming to really want to leave the house again; well, who wouldn’t like to leave the house if their lover lived in the nearest town, but there was no way that Alfred would let anyone know about that.

“No more cussing in front of the kids - you’re meant to be a good influence on those two. Dinner is at the usual time, could you let the princess know when to come down for it?”

Alfred wasn’t content to accept the punishment so easily when he hadn’t done anything. He valued liberty and freedom and certainly not being punished without trial when he was innocent.  
“What did she even say?! And yeah, I’ll tell him in a sec… Wait! He hung around her all the time today, what if he said something nasty and cussed around in front of her?” he asked and crossed his arms,not wanting to give in to this unfair punishment just yet.  
Mr Blair sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. “She said...daft...Daft...c-“  
He didn’t seem comfortable repeating the swear word himself, but folded his arms and said it quietly. “Daft cunt.”  
At that, Alfred just had to cringe. “I wouldn’t say that..!”

The young farmer was right, Arthur had spent a lot of time around the girl today and could easily have exposed her to the word, but such language wasn’t exactly fitting of someone like Arthur. He was a spoilt little princess, and such language seemed far too vulgar… But Mr. Blair had to admit that Alfred had a rather good point.  
He looked across at Alfred, but the young man usually wore an obvious guilty expression when he was caught in the wrong.  
He didn’t look that way now, so the man chose to trust him.  
“I s’pose you must be right...I’m sorry ‘bout that, Alfred. I’ll have a word with Nancy about not repeating everything she hears.”

“It’s alright! As long as I can still go out! Anyway! I’ll go get the lil’ princess for dinner!” he said and headed off into the house, taking a deep breath before he knocked against Arthur’s door again. Why did he have to put up with so much shit once Arthur arrived here!? It just wasn’t fair! “Arthur? You in there?” he called out, still not bothering to be polite.

A soft groan could be heard from the inside of the room while Arthur was pushing a hand through his recently gelled hair and getting up from the desk to answer the door. He didn’t seem at all impressed by Alfred, and barely opened the door enough for the other to see much of his face. He just had to sneak out while the others were busy eating and find a bank. He wasn’t sure how these things worked exactly, but Arthur was sure if he turned up then he could transfer something from his account to here. 

“What do you want, Alfred? I hope you’ve washed your hands if you’re here to ask for that book now.” He commented, scowling and popping a sweet into his mouth. 

Alfred crossed his arms; his mood just hit rock bottom as the other started talking. “We need to have a talk there” he said and opened the door himself, being obviously stronger than Arthur. “Did you cuss in front of Nancy? And yes I washed my fucking hands. I wanna borrow the Picture of Dorian Gray, I don’t need your funny comments” he asked and stepped into the doorframe, not looking like he was in the mood for messing around. Arthur stared at him as he came into the room but rolled his eyes and shut the door after Alfred was inside. He was strong, did the man ride a tractor or bench press one…?  
“It just slipped out, I didn’t exactly mean to.” He grumbled at him, watching Alfred looking for the book he wanted  
“Dude you said ‘daft cunt’! She’s nine!” the farmer snapped at him and glared, then looked at all of the books, moving them close to his eyes and back again, squinting. He put one down and rubbed his eyes, blinking a bit. God, his eyesight just was even worse than the last time he had time to read. “...Do you see the letters clearly or are they blurry for you too?” he asked and tried to look at the book again, trying to figure out if it really was “The Picture of Dorian Gray” while listening to Arthur.

Arthur tilted his head when Alfred had such trouble looking at the book. He had just assumed that he was having trouble reading because he was stupid, but Alfred’s comment about blurriness got him thinking.  
“No, they’re clear. Better with my reading glasses, though. I’m a man of my word, you can borrow any of the books I’ve brought here with me.” He didn’t try to scam Alfred out of the deal, just gesturing towards the books- and he didn’t know what to say about Alfred’s comment about his sight. Arthur was no optician. “Don’t fold the corners of the pages, and absolutely no eating while you read. Sticky fingers won’t be tolerated, is that clear Alfred?”  
The answer came quickly, only to confirm that he had understood Arthur. “No folding and no sticky fingers, gotcha” he said and looked at Arthur, frowning before selecting a book to read.  
He had needed to see which book Alfred chose, biting his lip and then licking them nervously as he saw that Alfred had picked out one of those books. Alfred hadn’t chosen “The Picture of Dorian Gray’, no, the American took a book called “Mr. Justice Raffles”- it just sounded more promising. To be fair, Arthur had a lot of books like that, and he couldn’t help but feel nervous as he considered what Alfred would be able to do if he knew.  
But Alfred had definitely been kissing someone, and they’d probably gone further if how uncomfortable he’d looked the morning after was any clue. His face reddened, the little pervert spending a moment too long picturing what he thought might have happened. 

Now that Alfred had a book, he focused on Arthur’s appearance. He must have dressed up for something, because Alfred was not convinced that he was dressed like that while working on the farm with Nancy.  
“You look like you’re going out... But you do know that the town is a good 30 minutes away when I drive there with my motorcycle, right?” he said and raised his eyebrow at him.

Alfred commented about how long it would take to get into town and Arthur tensed up. He folded his arms and looked away. His hair was gelled back nicely and was wearing a jacket with his shirt as he was preparing to go out to find a way into town. He was willing to hitchhike, but he desperately wanted to get his hands on some money to buy clothes and cigarettes. Besides, there had to be a club of some sort.

 

Alfred had frowned at the suddenly tense brat. He looked between Arthur and the book in his hands, thinking back to their conversation earlier.  
Should he... be nice to Arthur? Perhaps he offer to take him into town.  
“...Listen up. I need to get to town anyway today... If you cooperate more, I won’t mind taking you there.” he muttered, crossing his arms and still holding the book... God he just wanted to read, but there was someone he just needed to see again.

 

“Hm? What was that?” He asked after, glancing up at him quickly when Alfred got his attention again.  
“Ah- Right. Well. I mean I thought I could hitchhike, getting into a car with a stranger seems a bit safer than riding that hunk of junk you call a motorcycle...”

As he heard him, he gasped and almost dropped the book, staring at him in utter shock and disbelief. “Are you fucking stupid? You can’t just hop into someone’s car, especially not when it’s late! Do you have any idea what could happen to you around here at night?” he asked and walked over to him. “Use your brain! What if the driver won’t let you out? Or recognizes you and demand ransoms from your parents? Or- worse...” he said, feeling uncomfortable as he started thinking about such horrid things that could happen to the other man. “Go with me or don’t, seriously. You don’t even know the way, you’ve been here for two days!” he said and took a deep breath. “You are a fucking spoiled princess but- you’re still a person so I can’t let that happen, man” he said and crossed his arms, looking at him seriously, looking into his eyes. “And it’s not a ‘hunk of junk’ you fucking brat”

Glaring across at Alfred, the other seemed to consider something. Getting a ride from Alfred sounded better, but it meant that Alfred would be there. He’d have to go back with Alfred, too, and Arthur didn’t think he could fit on the motorbike with Alfred and any guys he brought home. His lips twitched into an amused grin, but he forced himself to frown across at the man.  
He didn’t have to force himself when Alfred started to imply that Arthur could be in any danger.  
“Oh, so you don’t think I’d be able to handle myself?!” He Demanded, meeting Alfred’s eye and glaring at him. “You work on a fucking farm, Alfred. I’m from London. I can handle myself just fine, so shove off.” He stormed forward to move past Alfred and headed towards the window. He’d planned on leaving a bit later, but he was better off going now and putting an end to the conversation with Alfred. 

“You think you can fight a fucking criminal? Or a murderer or whatever could take a young man into his car?!” he asked and gritted his teeth. “Just because you’re from that fucking city doesn’t mean anything! Your ‘mummy and daddy’ take care of you all the time and you get your personal security and have all the money and everything you need! You don’t have a clue about what’s out there you asshole!” he yelled and was about to leave- if Arthur wanted to get himself into danger, fine! 

The Brit gritted his teeth as he listened to Alfred, but he had no intention of sticking around for an argument. What did it matter what he called his parents?! At least he had some!  
“It is too a hunk of junk. I know bikes, Alfred, and I wouldn’t be seen dead on yours.” he commented as he was about to open the window, wanting to simply climb out again and be done with it. What he wouldn’t give for a night to relax and have some drinks. He was used to sneaking out at home, Hell he had made a sport of doing so at school.

But once those last few words were said, Alfred couldn’t hold himself back anymore and he put the book away, stomping right up to him. “It’s not a fucking hunk of trash you ass!” he snapped and him and punched him into the face. Anger was taking over his brain and he glared sharply at the other, not being able to hold back anymore. Alfred hadn’t thought before acting, he was blinded by rage and Arthur was to blame for that.  
Arthur had unfortunately turned his head when Alfred approached again, his eyes going wide when he saw the fist coming at him. He slumped against the wall, holding his bloody nose and grunting in pain.  
“You fucking twat! That was bang out of order!” It wasn’t long before Arthur retaliated. He didn’t have time for a well thought out insult, and the pain in his nose was rather distracting.  
“Like hell it was!” the farmer yelled and gritted his teeth as he looked down at Arthur. Arthur wasn’t as strong as Alfred, but he was a determined little fellow with a short temper and experience in fights.  
He punched Alfred in the jaw, more interested in retaliating than playing fair and he’d soon jammed his knee into Alfred’s crotch.  
Alfred let out a grunt as his jaw was hit and was about to hit him again before he felt the other’s knee between his legs, letting out a loud yelp while striking the other’s cheek with the palm of his hands before he crumpled forward. He tried not to fall onto his knees, he couldn’t give Arthur the satisfaction.

“Fuck!” he groaned out and moved his hands between his legs, gritting his teeth, sucking in some air as well. “Fucking bastard…!” he muttered and glared at Arthur, straightening up slowly. “You don’t even fight fair” he muttered and tensed up. “I don’t care anymore, if you think it’s a good idea to go alone on a way you don’t know, fine!” he said and grabbed the book, trying to get himself together. Alfred departed, no longer wishing to stick around and try to be nice to Arthur. The other man was an infuriating idiot, and the fact that he was a dirty fighter only pissed him off more. Arthur gritted his teeth as Alfred left.  
“Yeah, piss off you fucking dickhead.” He growled at him, being glad that he finally left, and Arthur had to bite down on something as he put his nose right. It was painful. Arthur had been in many fights before, but his nose had always been unhurt. He found the mirror and examined himself carefully. Blood dribbled down to his chin and he paled at the sight, but he just had to find a handkerchief and try to make himself look less like an assault victim. Nobody would want to pick up that in their car.

Arthur gathered his pittance of an allowance and shoved it into his jacket pocket. His knuckles were sore after punching Alfred, but not sore enough to prevent him from climbing out of the window. The pulsing pain would fade with time, Arthur was experienced enough to know that much. Now without any foolish Americans to stand in his way the young man took one last look at the room before lowering himself out of the window. The farm was a short distance from the road, and he made his way past the farmhouse to approach the road. Arthur was very quiet, ducking beneath the window when he passed the kitchen where he knew the family would be eating. The warm glow from within the house thankfully brought no attention to him as he snuck around to the front of the house.  
Alfred was just trying to scare him, if anything the fight was only evidence in Arthur’s mind that he could defend himself if he needed to. Determined to get to town by any means, Arthur gazed at the road in search of anyone travelling that lonely stretch of road.  
He was out there for a short while before a car was visible in the distance. Arthur could hardly believe his good fortune and stuck his thumb up in defiance of Alfred’s earlier warnings. Alfred should just be thankful that Arthur hadn’t nicked his bike to go into the city. Arthur was not at all afraid of hitchhiking.  
His heart sped up when the vehicle slowed, and he managed to meet the eyes of the intrigued driver. He approached the car with a few confident strides, smirking when the window was rolled down. Arthur was asked where he was heading, to which the Brit responded that anywhere was ideal.  
The man behind the wheel had peered behind Arthur at the farmhouse, then at the young man who seemed desperate for ride. It wasn’t a common situation, and the accent made it clear that this young hitchhiker wasn’t from around here. He looked Arthur up and down, noticing the lack of luggage and interesting choice of clothes. He looked like a kid who had gotten into a fight and had made the rash decision of leaving. The man was incredibly happy to oblige him, and encouraged Arthur to get in before any reasonable thoughts came to the teenager’s mind.  
He got Arthur’s name, smiling and inviting him into the car. After Arthur had complained about being punched in the nose, he was even offered a place to stay the night if he really didn’t want to go home so soon. Arthur put a hand on the car door, feeling hesitation as he met the man's eyes. The man smiled encouragingly at him.

Arthur had no luggage, he wasn’t from around here, and he was young.  
Christmas had apparently come early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This chapter is a little bit longer and we hope it was worth the wait! Anyway, there we will get to the good UsUk stuff soon, just wait a few more chapters stay tuned for the real romance to begin.  
> Reviews welcome!


	4. Quick Update

Hi people who are still interested in this fanfic! We will continue this project sooner or later, and we're very sorry for the long wait.

Hopefully we will have more time to edit everything and publish some more chapters soon... stay tuned bois  
:)


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